Sherlock Story
Forgotten Memories, Chapter 176
*Thanks so much for reading. Please do not forget to comment.
A disclaimer: Sherlock belongs to BBC along with the talented writers Steven Moffat and Mark Gatiss; along with the amazing Martin Freeman and Benedict Cumberbatch. No money was made. The story, however, is my original thought and comes out of my overactive imagination. Other characters introduced are also mine.
Coolness10123 (Thank you for the multiple reviews. More ahead, hang on.), Benfan (Thank you for the multiple comments. More hot and cold ahead.), Bookworm Gal (Here's more. Get a blanket and enjoy.), bruderlein (It is going to get a bit intense. Get some tea, my dear. Um, strong tea. ), Kitiara88 (Thank you for your lovely comments. More ahead. ), gemstone1234 (I agree. BBC made a Moriarty that one loves to hate. More Moriarty ahead. ), Puky2012 (Sorry about the image of red silk pants. Try to get it out of your mind.), madscientistsuz (You definitely win the most knowledge of bee award. Great job! ), socalrose (Thank you for the multiple might want to get tea, a blanket, and something fluffy to pet.), kassandwich (Correct. Thanks for participating. More ahead.), Prothoe (Thank you for the multiple reviews. Get the tea… a full kettle. A box of chocolate and a comfy, and thick shock blanket ;)), Bookworm45669 (Since your sister addicted you, at least she can give you a nice cuppa and cookies. ), RawrxSushi (I join you in the happy dance. It is never too late to answer, your name was added to the previous chapters.), Puky2012 (Thank you for the multiple reviews. Take a deep breath, my dear. And here-we-go.), sexypurpleshirt (More good, bad, and the ungly ahead. ), Voldermort ( Thanks. Good luck this week.), hijohn (Thank you for your words of encouragement, more conflict ahead.) To all guest and PMs, thanks.
Thank you ; Bookworm45669, foxeeflame, Warelock, lizzie1250, Natalia Trevor, RawrxSushi, kamelion, Kelllie, nourss, Me And The Time Vortex, deaka, goanago, Whosawesome, Rouge Singer, Nourss, goanago, Lillkin, It's-Somebody, lizzie1250, Dawnfire11, RiverSong11, georgiporgiepuddingandpie, . , e la mucca salto sulla luna, kassandwich, T're Urvawi, lizzie1250, Kelllie, Sdale05, jack63kids, kassandwich ,macgyvershe, cim902, HC, Hanging in there, SWBloodwolf, BlueSkies23, kassandwich, Benfan, bruderlein, eohippus, gemstone1234, Dark magical Sorcres, mvignal, Bookworm Gal, Danishprince,Voldemort101, idlewild1, hJohn302, Socalrose, Prothoe, SAS , gemstone1234, eohippu , sevenpercent , Catie501, Suzy, cim902, Esstell, Natalia, Lunita28, MapleleafCameo, hanging in there, ShiverandShamy, macgyvershe, Puky2012, Anya Deanna Winchester, Kitiara88, Esstell , EscapedRabbitBlueBell, bruderlein, Lunita28 , Burning Phoenix , Jenna Yemowa, Kassandwich , bruderlein , Puky2012, Flounder65, BritLitChick , Kitiara88, Jenna Yemowa, hollowgirl15, madscientistsuz , Nietzsches, Flounder65, Warm-Glow ,Lanna- Nailo and Guest, Miriza, Guest #3, Warm Glow, Guest #1, Guest #2 , hanging in there, hJohn302, briongloid fiodoir, leyapearl, hJohn302, Pencilx, BritLitChick, Lanna-Nailo, drpaz, dbz27, Lunita28, Guest, Isaldaria, Tammy, April29Roses, christistina, waterbaby, 84, and Peacefreakx3 for your reviews and PMs. Thank you to all Guests. Thank you for your reviews. I appreciate you all.
Warning Moriarty*****. *** T rated ****. ****Need I Say More?
Last week's fun question was: In cannon, The adventures of Sherlock Holmes, His Last Bow, what was the retired Sherlock Holmes' primary occupation/ hobby?
Answer: Apiculture. The keeping of bees.
You know your cannon.
Note: Radionuclide Identification Device (RID) measures radiation.
Congratulations:Bookworm Gal, bruderlein, Kitiara88, gemstone1234, madscientistsuz, socalrose, Voldemort101, kassandwich, Bookworm45669, and Puky2012.
I am abuzz with amazement, and your level of knowledge. (I know that was bad. Please don't kill me for that comment.)
A/N: Hi everyone. We're on the third post. However, I ran into a little problem. I thought that the post was too big to give to you at one time. I didn't want to overwhelm. I broke it into three parts. Enjoy.
1 It Begins.
2. Feed the Fire.
3. Burn Baby Burn. (This week's post.) Part A today/ Part B Saturday/ Part C Monday.
4. Ashes.
5. Epilogue
"… I can't count the times I have lagged seemingly hopelessly far behind, and nobody except myself thinks I can win. But I have pulled myself in from desperate situations. When you are behind there are two strategies – counter-attack or all men to the defenses… " chess strategy - Magnus Carlsen
Final Moves… Part III … "Attack or Defend… Burn Baby Burn."
"I want something good worth dying for, to make it beautiful to live." John M. Freeman
United States
Port of San Francisco Bay
Shipping Dock
Two Days Ago
The continual rows of stacked shipping crates seemed endless. The port inspector walked up to the new crates, with his thick stack of papers in hand. The man walked nervously beside him. He hoped that the darkness and shadows hid his apprehension.
"Is this everything that came in today?" The inspector asked.
"Yes it is. Of course." The man replied.
The inspector signed with a tired flourish. He tore off a copy and gave it to the man. There was nothing different about this. It had been done more times than he can count in the ten years that he had been in charge of the shipping dock.
The inspector turned to walk away but paused, and walked back. "Sam, this group of serial numbers were not signed off. Where is that crate?"
Sam Hilton smiled. "Oh, that crate was turned back. Here's the paperwork," Sam laughed sounding embarrassed, "I meant to tell you when you first came Bill, sorry"
Bill Wallace frowned for a minute. He looked at Sam. He had known the man for over seven years. He was one of the few men that had a spotless record. He would give Sam the benefit of the doubt.
"Be more careful Sam, or the next time I'll have to write you up for this." Bill said with a warning.
"Yeah – yeah. I will. I'm a little under the weather. I think I've got that flu bug that's going around."
Bill looks sympathetically at Sam, "I had the flu last month. It had me in bed for a good week." He smiled understandingly at Sam. "I'll see you in a few days."
Sam nodded and watched as the port inspector retreated. Sam's smile left suddenly.
Within half an hour, a truck was picking up one of the crates. Sam didn't bother to ask for signatures, or fill out official paperwork. No one was to know of its existence. He would make sure of this fact.
Sam watched as the men secure the crate, and prepared to leave. He caught the arm of the person he believed to be the leader. He knew nothing about the man, except that he had an accent. British, he thought.
"My daughter, when will I get her back? I've done as you've said Mister." Sam's voice was barely controlled.
The man looked at him with what he can only describe as loathing. He glanced at his arm, where he held. Sam blinked and immediately let go of the man's arm.
"Don't be troubled Mr. Hilton. You have done as we've said, exactly, in fact. You must be patient." Sebastian Moran smile was dark. "Don't worry I'll personally make sure that she is," he paused for a second, "given back to you, in a few pieces, I mean days, of course." His teeth seemed unnaturally white.
"Yes. Yes, of course," a worried father said. His only girl was barely twenty-four. She was the youngest of his three children. He would do whatever they said to make sure she was safe. He didn't care about himself.
Sebastian Moran's effortlessly climbed into the tall truck. They immediately drove away. He had to be back on the plane in a few hours. This was just one of several stops that he would have to make, before he returned to Moriarty.
221 B Baker Street
Current Day
He reclined quietly, as he sat at the kitchen table in Mrs. Hudson's flat. The midday meal and tea was delicious, however, a lot was on his mind. Mrs. Hudson and John were engulfed in the local gossip. He resisted the urge to shake his head. He half listened quietly. Anthea should be arriving in twenty minutes. At that time, they both would analyze the massive amounts of information that the USB storage drive had revealed.
He picked at his food out of politeness as he glanced at the door to the flat.
It had been forty-five minutes exactly since his brother went upstairs to 221B. He resisted the urge to check on him. His brother was a grown man after all. The moment he saw him today, he knew that a lot was on his mind. How could it not be? He also knew that his brother needed time alone to process the past few days, and to analyze the heavy responsibilities that were on him. He understood his brother, just as his brother understood him.
He sighed as he crossed his legs and picked up his teacup. He forced himself to take a sip.
Someone was at the door. By the force of the pressure applied to the doorbell, it was urgent. Mrs. Hudson smiled as she got up and walked toward the door.
"I'll get it, you both finish your meals," her voice floated back over her shoulders, as she ascended the stairs.
He did not notice that he stood at first; his body seemed to stand on its own accord. He noticed John's eyes, they were looking at him with an intensity. John had stood as well. They both seemed to simultaneously look toward the stairs that led up to 221B.
Dubai
Miranda Holmes Villa
Twelve Hours Earlier
Everything was still, on the quiet mountain road. The sun had set long ago. Men dressed in black moved quietly to the back of the building. Several guns had attached silencers. Even though the two villas were secluded, there was still a public road, which ran in front of the two buildings.
The tactical group was split into two. They had cut the external wires for the alarm, and picked the door locks.
She pushed in her earphone slowly, and gave the commands to move forward. The night binoculars were put on, as she slowly pushed the door open. She winced as the slight squeaking sound was noted.
With a quick flick of her fingers, and a whispered, "Go," into her microphone earpiece, they moved.
Their orders were simple. Capture Adler, capture the child, and kill everything else that moved.
They slowly made their way toward the bedrooms. They were to position themselves in front of the bedrooms, and wait for the order to fire. They were to start shooting simultaneously to avoid the occupants being resistant.
She smiled a satisfied smile. Blake was hers. She walked up to the room that was reported to be his. The newest, and youngest agent, had been easily persuaded to cooperate. She looked up and down the hall. She pushed her night goggles upward as she allowed her eyes to adjust. Her actions were mimicked by the men in the house. She then pushed her attached microphone, and whispered one word.
"Exterminate."
She loved saying that. Her smile broadened showing shadow of white teeth in the middle of the darkness. Up and down the hallway, flashes of light cast ghostly shadows upon the wall in the faces of the men who were firing. A moment was taken to enjoy the sight.
Her steps were quiet, as she walked up to Blake. Agent Thomas lay with his head toward the ceiling. The covers were pulled up to his chin. For a moment, something washed over her, she thought it was regret. Regret was never felt before, funny that. He was beautiful; too bad.
She put the safety on her gun, and put it on the floor, while quietly extracting the hunter's knife. The large, sharp blade, caught the gleaming nightlight for a split second, before a shift of her hand, caused it to disappear back into the darkness. She quietly went next to him. His hair had fallen over his face. The front was getting too long again. She knew how he hated that. She resisted the urge to push the strands out of his face. This was usually her favorite part; she wondered why she was hesitant. The unwanted feelings were pushed down deep, into a forgotten place in her soul. Her eyes became ice, all compassion fled from her.
She raised her hand above his stomach. Her hands did not aim for the chest or his heart. He would die slowly. A girl has got to have some fun.
Blake eyes open unexpectantly. The sound of struggling suddenly broke around them. He grabbed her hand mid thrust, and twisted the knife away. They both struggled, ignoring the clattering sound of metal, as it hit, skidded across the wooden floors, and then finally was swallowed up by the darkness. He grunted and twisted away with barely enough time to avoid a kick to the groin. She grunted panting; she was now the one on the bottom. He kneeled on top of her, restraining her arms and legs. The fight had ended. It was vicious and dramatic but short-lived.
"Abigail, was that a good morning or a good night?" Blake asked with a raised eyebrow.
She now noticed that he had a bullet proof vest. Her eyes traveled over him. He was not wearing pajamas. She looked into his eyes, surprised. Within a few minutes, a small group came into the room. Abigail was not surprised to notice that it was not her men, but agents. Lots of agents.
"How long have you known," Abigail asked evenly.
"You're rather good; it took me two hours to realize who you were. It usually doesn't take me that long." Agent Thomas spoke as he picked her up, led her to a chair, and roughly deposited her in it. Blake eyes shifted subtly. He held one finger to his earpiece, and seemed to listen to an unheard conversation.
"My men?" She asked.
Blake's eyes shifted back to Abigail. "Captured, except for four men who resisted," Blake looked her in the eyes, "but we have other things to discuss now, don't we."
An agent rushed into the room. One look at his face and Blake excused himself. "Sorry dear, I'll be just a moment." Blake walked quickly from the room. He spoke when he was just outside of the earshot of Abigail.
"Mrs. Holmes never made it to the airplane. She had convinced an agent to detour to the University. She said that she had forgotten something in her office." The agent hesitated. "No one has been able to reach her, or the agent."
Agent Blake Thomas looked grim "There's more."
"Irene Adler was attacked. Agent Myers' team was able to stop the attempted abduction. All but two of Moriarty's men were killed, however, there was one casualty on our side. William Holmes seems to be a target. The only reason that there was no attempt at abduction, was the fact that they thought that he was at the villa, Sir."
Agent Thomas took out his mobile and pushed the code to Miranda's phone as he ran out the door.
Dubai
Undisclosed Location
Half an Hour Earlier
Agent Thomas moved into the open space. The entire building had been emptied except for a few pieces of equipment. They were torture devices, but he noted the fact that there was no blood on any of them. This fact was a surprise and a relief.
Several agents walked around him as they spoke into their earpieces. Thomas noticed two chairs and a table in the middle of the room. The table had an ungodly number of varied, dull knives, which were lined neatly on top of it. The echoes of his feet, as his dress shoes hit the concrete floor, seemed too loud in his ears. His steps slowed, and then stopped.
He had a stern look on his face as his left hand reached for the note. It was left on the chair with a brooch from Mrs. Holmes attached. The message was simple. It said, "BURN."
Agent Blake repressed the cursed that wanted to enter his mouth. He gritted his teeth together in irritation and anger. He stilled himself when he heard quick footsteps approaching him. He turned around as he squeezed the bridge of his nose, trying to fight off a headache. He looked at the approaching agents immediately.
One of them spoke, "There's been an abduction Sir. It appears to be Mr. Holmes."
Thomas took a second to process the information before speaking. "Double the detailed protection for William Holmes and his mother. If they're not already underway, send protection to Baker Street. Check with the agents who were supposed to be in motorcars outside of 221B, make sure that they're still alive. Put Agent Pearson in charge until I get there. Take Molly Hooper into protective custody. And discreetly have our inside man follow the Detective Inspector. Have a detail of agents follow him, and stationed themselves outside of his home."
"Yes Sir," one agent said as he ran off.
Thomas turned to the other agent and said, "Get us on an airplane within the hour, and interrogate the prisoners. If they are resistant, motivate them." He ignored the odd look that the agent gave him.
"Yes Sir." The agent immediately started to bark orders before pulling out his mobile.
"One more thing, activate Holmes tracker. And expedite phase two. Mr. Moriarty will need a distraction, something dramatic enough for him to physically leave Mr. Holmes, and take some of his men with him. That will decrease the number of men guarding Mr. Holmes." Thomas ignored the agent now, as he pulled out his mobile and started making his own phone calls.
Thomas started to jog toward the door as he spoke on his mobile phone. "Mr. Patel, sorry to wake you but, I need you to do something for me."